Recovery
by StarESP4Cat
Summary: This story takes place in the time between Retribution Parts 1 & 2. Steve is recuperating from his wounds and Mark is in prison for a crime he did not commit. Somebody arrives to house sit the beach house, take care of Steve and save Mark from cabin fever.
1. Chapter 1

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

Steve recovers from being shot and Mark is on death row for a crime he didn't commit. Who is taking care of a badly injured Steve and house sitting the Sloan family beach house?

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

The Visitor

Lieutenant Steve Sloan lay in his hospital bed after he was brought back there after being permitted to see his father's verdict. He was sitting in a wheelchair being wheeled into the courtroom by Amanda and Jesse. As he heard the verdict and sentence, he was stunned since he felt he couldn't do anything to help his dad. Also, he had to put aside any pain from his gunshot wounds to focus any reaction from this travesty of justice Mark had to endure. Right now, he was exhausted and the medication that was supposed to alleviate any pain had started to wear off. He gladly welcomed any sleep, even if it was medicated.

A few hours later, Steve woke up to find a familiar woman sitting by his side on the visitors' chair. She looked at him with a furrowed brow of concern. He responded to her look with a look of rare helplessness.

"Carol, when did you get here?" Steve groaned when he recognized his sister. "I thought you were in Portland."

"Steve, I just got here," Carol explained. "I will answer the question that I know you'll ask, Jesse Travis contacted me and told me that dad had just been sentenced to death for killing two people. I had to drop everything to house sit the beach house and to take care of you when you get out of the hospital."

"Dad didn't kill those people, he was framed."

"I know."

"I want whoever killed those people to be caught and convicted. If I hadn't been shot, I would have found the son of a bitch and killed him or her myself."

"Steve, you know that won't help dad. You have to let your colleagues figure it out."

"Carol, I just hate feeling helpless!"

"Nobody likes that feeling."

"When did you get so philosophical?"

"I guess it had to do with mom and dad. Also, being married to Bruce Hilton had something do with it."

Steve smiled at his sister and refrained from laughing since he didn't want to end up on an operating table repairing Jesse's handy work after busting up his stitches. Instead, he gave her a thumbs up with a soft chuckle and Carol understood.

"Who brought you from the airport?" Steve asked. "Did they bring you straight to the beach house or directly here?"

"Amanda Bentley picked me up from the airport and brought me here," Carol replied. "She brought me here first and told me this is where I am needed."

"Are you going to visit dad?"

"I plan to visit him in a few hours, but I will see him and let him know how you are doing. Finally, I am going to the beach house. Amanda gave me the keys, so don't worry about it."

A nurse entered Steve's room to check on his vitals, change the bandages and clean the incisions. He winced when the bandages were removed and hissed after feeling stinging sensations as an antiseptic solution was applied to his wounds. He would think that after being in the hospital for a few weeks recuperating from his gunshot wounds that he'd be used to this treatment. Time did lessen the stinging sensation, but it would be some time before it is completely gone. He sighed in relief when she put fresh bandages to the healing wounds. The nurse observed that he yawned and saw the woman sitting on the chair.

"Ma'am, I have to ask you to leave," the nurse told Carol. "Mr. Sloan needs his rest."

"Leeann, it's okay," Steve said. "This is my sister Carol; she is a nurse in Portland, Oregon."

"Steve, I really should get going and visit dad," Carol said. "How about I give you a call later and tell you how dad is faring?"

"I am going to hold you to that!"

"I will see you tomorrow or tonight if there are still visitor hours by the time I get back. I will stay at the beach house. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call."

Carol gave her brother a quick kiss on the cheek and he gave her one in return. She gave the nurse a slight glare. Steve wished that Carol could have stayed longer with him. It would have been that way if their father hadn't been unjustly sentenced to death for two murders he didn't commit. Right now, Carol would have to make the trek to the prison where Mark now made his home. After seeing his sister leave his hospital room, Steve drifted off into a fitful slumber that would be filled with 'what if' scenarios in his head.

TBC


	2. Carol Visits Dad

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

Carol visits her and Steve's father, Mark, in prison.

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

Carol Visits Dad

Mark and Carol were sitting across from each other. The only thing separating father and daughter was a plexi-glass window with a filter-like apparatus that facilitated communication between the inmate and visitor.

"Carol, it's great to see you again," Mark told her.

"Daddy, I can't believe you are stuck here," Carol said.

"When did you get back in town?"

"I got here about eight hours ago. I went to see Steve at the hospital."

"How is he doing?"

"He seems to be doing better, but we both know that he has a long road to recovery. Daddy, I am worried about him."

"You know that Steve is a tough guy, but I think sometimes he pushes his limit when he should take it easy. Once he officially gets out of the hospital, I want him to rest as much as possible and not do anything stupid that could kill him or earn him another trip to the hospital."

"I remember around the time of Christmas that I left that bastard Bruce. His colleagues followed me since he had alleged smuggled a videotape into my suitcase. A few places were ransacked."

"Steve was attacked by one of Andrea's accomplices and broke a few ribs. He had told me that you promised to get him a cup of coffee. When you failed to return with the coffee, he somehow knew that you disappeared against your will. He signed himself out against medical advice so he could find you."

"I am grateful that he did, but what he did was kind of insane. I know that ever since I was born, I became his responsibility."

"When he finally gets out of the hospital, you can return that favor and let him be your responsibility."

Mark's recent comment earned him a weak smile from his daughter. She also would be responsible for the care and maintaining of the beach house, both the main floor where Mark lived and the basement which Steve converted into his own place. Was Carol up for the responsibility of caring for her injured brother and a beach house? Only time will tell.

"Daddy, how are you coping in prison?" Carol asked. "You are in death row, scheduled to be executed at some point. You don't deserve to be here, somebody railroaded you. I know you couldn't have killed anyone!"

"Well, it's not fun being here," Mark was blunt. "There is a guy that I helped put away that is constantly taunting me. He was also gloating that without Steve's testimony in court, Gordon Ganza got off through a mistrial. It's just pure hell!"

"It sounds like this guy is a grade 'A' scumbag."

"I wouldn't be surprised that he knew somebody outside that pulled this whole shit off. "

"You mean to tell me that this son of a bitch tried to kill my brother, your son, framed you for two murders and whoever he is working with is still walking the streets committing more crimes. Daddy, this is a sham and a travesty!"

"Carol, I know what you are going to say, but I don't think tracking these fucking vermin and doing bodily harm isn't going help neither Steve nor myself. You could get into trouble."

"This hasn't been an easy time for any of us."

"Just stay strong, honey!"

"I think I should be the one telling you to stay strong!"

A moment later, a guard approach Carol and told her that her visiting time was up. She nodded and got up from her chair.

"Are you going back to the hospital to visit Steve again today?" Mark asked. "Or are you going straight to the beach house?"

"It all depends on what time I get off the complex," Carol replied. "Amanda told me when visiting hours end today."

"I think you have plenty of time to visit your brother before visiting hours are over today. If you cannot make it tonight, you could see him again tomorrow. Either way, tell him I said 'hello', hope he is doing better and I love him."

"I shall do just that. I hope to visit you tomorrow. Bye, Daddy!"

"Bye, honey!"

After she waved to Mark, Carol left the prison complex and contacted Jesse to come pick her up. She had also asked if there was still time for her to visit Steve again. He told her that by the time they got to Community General, there would be only about fifteen minutes that she could spend with her brother. It was all she needed before going to the Sloan beach house.

"I take it you had just visited dad in prison," Steve said as Carol sat on the chair. "How is he faring in this disgraceful miscarriage of justice?"

"He said 'hello' to you, hoped you are doing better and that he loves you! He is constantly being taunted by an inmate that he helped put away. There was something about a mistrial because you couldn't testify."

"That was the time that I got shot, had major surgery and spent time in the ICU. How convenient was that?"

"I think it was way too convenient. Anyway, let's get back to dad. He also told me that it's hell there."

"I don't blame him for saying that and especially if somebody in death row is taunting him. I just hope there is some evidence out there that could prove dad innocent and release him from that nightmare."

A nurse came by the room to let Carol know that visiting hours were over for the day and that she would more than welcome to visit Steve tomorrow.

"I will call you as soon as get to the beach house," Carol told Steve as she got up and kissed him in the cheek.

"How about you call me in about two hours," Steve smiled and gave her a kiss on her cheek. "I am assuming that Amanda or Jesse will give you a ride. You could use dad's car or my truck to get around."

"Thank you and don't sleep until I call you!"

"I wouldn't dream of doing such a thing!"

Amanda gave Carol a ride to the beach house and the two women talked about the weather in Portland, Oregon versus in Los Angeles on route. They talked about their childhood and anything else, but talking about Mark's unfortunate incarceration was off limits. Both women were angry over it: Carol, since he is her father and Amanda, he was a colleague and a father figure. Carol did tell Amanda of a very embarrassing story about Steve when he was a teenager. Amanda did promise not to tell Steve about what little sister Carol told her. Upon arriving at the Sloan beach house, Carol thanked Amanda for the ride and entered the house after seeing her riding companion drive away. She first entered Mark's place and inspected it and did the same for Steve's apartment. The house needed to be cleaned and she did it in enough time to call Steve to let him know that she arrived safe and the house is clean. He told her that it was nice to hear her voice and to rest. When the Sloan siblings hung up, Carol set up the guestroom as her temporary bedroom. She called in for a pizza and ate half of it before putting the rest in the freezer. She watched a little TV and went to bed.

TBC


	3. Methods of a Menace

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

The inmate who tormented Mark will be revealed and is up to no good.

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

Methods of a Menace

Mark was sitting on the bed in his death row cell. His conversation with his daughter temporarily lifted up his spirits, but now either she went back to visit Steve in the hospital or she's at the beach house. He was in deep thought about how to prove his innocence while his detective son was medical leave. Sure, Steve had his colleagues that could vouch for Mark, but it was one officer who had him dead to rights. Why the fuck was he even here in the first place? Planted evidence, forged rent check for a murdered girl's apartment and the binary poison that killed Ganza were all used to frame him.

"Oh Mark, I noticed you had your daughter visit," a creepy looking and sounding man said viciously.

"You leave her out this!" Mark snapped. "You probably were behind my son getting shot, but don't you dare touch my daughter!"

"Why do you think I had anything to do with Steve getting shot? I had spent the last seven years languishing here for allegedly killing my wife."

"Allegedly killed her? Malcolm, you poisoned her so you and your greedy brother could claim her family's accounting firm all to yourselves."

"Her death was an accident!"

"You had given her one drug and she took her insulin. The two drugs interacted and caused her to slip into a coma. She eventually died and you allowed that slimy Ian to take over her family business."

"Don't you dare refer to my brother as slimy!"

"Just shut the fuck up and leave me alone! Haven't you caused more than enough problems for yourself and others, and that includes my family?!"

Malcolm decided that enough tormenting of his nemesis for the moment. He had to come up with other ways to taunt the older man. The man who was set up to take the fall for two murders that someone else did. The man whose police officer son was shot, had major surgery, spent a few days in a coma and is now awake and recuperating (though a long road at it). He thought of contacting someone from the outside to torment the daughter of the poor man, but he decided against it. Instead, he thought it would be more fun to target Lieutenant Steve Sloan once he is well enough to leave the hospital. He needed Ian to plot something for the near future once the younger Sloan returned home.

The methods of a menace were churning in the mind of Malcolm Trainor. He sat in his cell and smirked. In his mind, Dr. Mark Sloan was worth the framing. He gave himself the satisfaction that he's making the Sloans pay for his punishment.

In the cell across from Malcolm's, Mark sat on the bed and was in deep thought. He wondered if Carol could also be in danger, not just Steve. Maybe Malcolm was messing with him and she is safe. Mark knew that his daughter could hold her own, especially when she delivered a right hook to Andrea's face when she (Andrea) was about to be arrested. He knew Steve had taught her that while they were growing up. He also knew that she could always call the cops for protection or hope Steve makes a full and very rapid recovery for her sake.

TBC


	4. Physical Therapy and Bizarre Dreams

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

Steve is still in the hospital recuperating from his injuries, now he is coping with both physical and psychological therapies.

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder and the characters. I only own my original characters and ideas.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

A/N2: Even though this is a dramatic story, I will have chapters or moments of comic relief. Hey, after all, Shakespeare included moments of comic relief in his dramatic/tragic plays!

Warning: This chapter may contain descriptions of bizarre dreams. Reader discretion is advised. Consider yourselves warned! Please don't blame me if you have any weird, bizarre or borderline psychedelic dreams!

Physical Therapy and Tales of Bizarre Dreams

Six Weeks Later

"Come on, Steve!" Rebecca, Steve's über perky physical therapist, shouted. "You can do this! Don't you want to return to your job and help bring criminals to justice?"

Steve panted as he slowly took a step while holding on to the parallel bars for stability. It was his second day of physical therapy and wore him out. He felt that he wasn't making any real progress, but beginning to walk after healing from a major trauma as he experienced was fairly decent progress. He needed to be patient, but with his father still unjustly sitting on death row, patience was just an unaffordable luxury. His spirit was more than willing, but his flesh was still somewhat weak.

"I think I am done for today," Steve grunted. "Carol, I know you are here for moral support and to help Rebecca motivate me, but I feel like a truck ran over me – at least twice."

"You had just started today's session," Carol protested. "Don't you want to get back to being 100 percent? Don't you want to help clear dad of murder?"

"You know I want dad freed from this miscarriage of justice, but I have been on medical leave since I got shot."

"I want that, too, but you need to do this; if not for yourself, then for dad and me! You need to get back your strength and relearn to walk. Dad and I would like for you to be well enough to get out of the hospital and finish your recovery at home."

"This is torture, sis!"

"Steve, I am going to kick your recuperating ass back into gear if you don't listen to your sister or me!" Rebecca snapped.

The Sloan siblings looked at Rebecca stunned. They knew that she was a good physical therapist and a great motivator, if necessary, but the tone was too much. It could be that Rebecca had heard enough excuses from her patients that this one angered her.

"I am sorry," Rebecca said. "I didn't mean to shout like that. I understand that you and your sister are dealing with a family crisis on top of this situation. Steve, would you like to take a breather?"

"I'd like that and you are forgiven," Steve replied.

"I'll bring the wheelchair," Carol added.

The two women helped him slowly on to the wheelchair. When he was settled, he took a deep breath and sat for about ten minutes before deciding that he wanted to continue. His sister and Rebecca helped him slowly up and back to the parallel bars. Once he held on to the bars, his resolve was strengthened. With some effort, he took another three steps before stopping again. Carol looked at her exhausted brother and she felt both pride and frustration.

"Steve, for someone who wanted to quit after taking the first step on his second day of physical therapy," Rebecca said. "You have made fairly decent progress."

"I am not sure that I would call that progress," Steve protested.

"Yesterday, you couldn't take two steps without tiring out," Carol silenced her brother's protest. "If you take a few steps more than yesterday, I'll take it. You need to be proud of your progress."

"Carol, don't get me wrong! I am proud of this accomplishment. I just wish that dad could see it in person and not hear about from you, Amanda or Jesse."

"He would be proud of you regardless."

"As much as I like to hear siblings talk about wishing their unjustly imprisoned father were here," Rebecca intervened. "I need to get Steve on that bench so he could try a few more exercises and give him a massage."

"Oh, I sure could use an excellent massage and a nice long nap! How about after the massage, I sleep on that table?"

"Nice try, Steve, but you are going back to your room. You will take you nap there and later, some counselor will come to talk to you and me about how we are coping with everything that has gone on since you were shot."

Steve stuck out his tongue at his sister and she placed her hands on her hips in authoritative fashion. Instead of retaliating with her tongue out at him, she helped Rebecca gingerly move him to the table. Steve slowly sat and laid down flat on his back. He hugged his chest and abdominal area and groaned as he lowered his torso to the table. He took a deep breath and exhaled as deeply as he could.

"Steve, now I want you to bend your right leg," Rebecca said. "Place your hands near the near and gently pull it towards your chest as far as you can. Do not be stoic about this! I'll tell you when to switch legs. We'll start with one rep with five on each leg. Also, don't forget to breathe."

He did as he was told and grunted when the exercise became too much, but thinking about his dad on death row became his motivating factor. Plus, Carol gave him pep talks whenever he was losing the motivation. When Rebecca noticed Steve was ready for a massage, she and Carol helped roll him on to his stomach. His wounds were still healing, but they didn't hurt as much and he could bear the pain of lying on his abdomen for brief periods of time. When the massage started, he groaned with delight.

Once Steve was back to his hospital room and in bed, he was fast asleep. The massage he received was so relaxing that he just wanted to doze off. Carol sat by her brother's side for a few moments before she got hungry and was on her way to the cafeteria. She remembered Mark telling her about the garden lasagna she should try.

"Steve, I am just going to get a bite to eat," Carol whispered to her napping brother. "The psychotherapist should be here in about an hour and a half."

She softly kissed him in the cheek and left the room. She went the nurse's station and told them that she was going to the cafeteria. She had spoken to Steve's nurse to ask him to keep an eye on her brother and she will return in less than an hour. About twenty minutes after Carol left for the cafeteria, Steve woke up from his nap. He looked all around his room for his sister, but she wasn't around. He remembered she told him something, but he couldn't recall was she said.

"Steve, it's okay," Jesse said as he entered the room. "Carol went to eat something at the cafeteria."

"Did she say when she'll be back?" Steve responded with a question.

"According to your nurse, she'll be back in less than an hour. How are you feeling? A little birdie told me you endured your second day of physical therapy."

"I am still sore, but I made some progress. Rebecca gives some amazing massages. Jesse, get that filthy mind of yours out of that gutter! I am not interested in her in that way."

"My 'filthy' mind wasn't even thinking of that! As a doctor and a friend, I want you to get better. I also want your father, my boss to get out of prison and the person or persons who actually killed Gordon and Spring and tried to kill you to have their asses thrown in that prison."

"I hear you, man!"

There were a few moments of silence between the two men when Carol finally returned to the room. She cleared her throat loud enough for the two men to take notice.

"Hey sis, how was your meal?" Steve asked.

"Dad was right about the garden lasagna," Carol replied. "It is delicious!"

"It was your father that suggested the cafeteria have more choices for patients, staff and visitors," Jesse added.

"That was after your vegetarian ex-girlfriend complained about the lack of options for vegetarians and vegans."

"Steve, she didn't complain, she just made some observations of the variety that the cafeteria was missing. Your dad overheard her and took it to the person in charge of the menu and the changes were implemented."

"Guys, I hate to break up the little tiff over the variety or lack of food choices at the hospital cafeteria, but the psychologist's appointment is soon and I don't want Steve to be stressed out more than he already is."

"I have to make my rounds before the interim Chief of Internal Medicine has my head served on a silver platter to the board. Let me tell you, I like your dad better than this battle ax."

After Jesse left for his rounds, an orderly appeared with a wheelchair and helped Steve from the bed to the wheelchair. The orderly wheeled Steve to the elevator and Carol followed close by. At first, Steve wanted to walk to the psychologist's office, but he realized that the progress he'd made in physical therapy on his second day didn't easily translate to outside. He still had some ways to go.

"Mr. Sloan, I am Dr. Lucci," the woman said as Steve was being wheeled into the office.

"Pleased to meet you," Steve said as he shook hands with the psychologist.

"Dr. Lucci, I am Carol Sloan," Carol said. "I am Steve's sister and Dr. Mark Sloan's daughter."

"Ah, the famous Chief of Internal Medicine is your father. It is a pity that he was railroaded the way he was."

"Dr. Lucci, is this part of the PEAP I am required to do?"

"That would be up to the Chief. Right now, I would like for you to open up about what you have been going through from the time you were shot to today. Carol, you are free to contribute to this session."

Steve looked at the psychologist and wondered if he could tell her about his emotional and physical struggles. He decided cooperating would be best for his recovery. Especially, since he wanted to prove Mark innocent.

"During the time that I was on the operating table and then in a coma," he started. "I was in some bizarre dream world. The pace of the situations around me was either in slow motion or warp speed."

"Can you tell me about some of these dreams?" Dr. Lucci replied with a question of her own.

"I was running in some nondescript environment wearing nothing but a dark gray cotton loincloth. After a few moments, the scenery changes to something very psychedelic. There were palm trees that were walking and talking. Boulders singing out of tune and unintelligibly, that you don't have a clue as to what they're singing about. People are moving around without any idea of their surroundings. Sometimes the pace is slow like a snail, other times, fast as an infamous Tasmanian Devil tornado. Every step I took, I would bump into those people regardless of their pace. They just went about their lives without apologizing. I walked towards a creek with a waterfall, but it didn't have water, but fruit juices. The type changes from apple to orange to cherry to pomegranate. A trail appeared and I followed it to a door that had a sign that shouted 'open me'. At first, I didn't open it, but the demands for to open it was getting progressively louder. I opened it and entered this meadow with the greenest grass and vibrant flowers. There was a woman standing with her back turned to me in silence. For some reason, she was very familiar. Before I could approach her and look at her face, she turned around and revealed herself. It was mom."

"You saw our mother, Katherine Sloan, in your dreams?" Carol asked.

"Yeah, I did! She looked healthy, as if she didn't have cancer. She saw me, but she couldn't believe that I was there. "

"Steve, you were in a coma and your subconscious mind has taken you to its world. Sometimes, it is plain and boring. Other times, it can be psychedelic and bizarre. There are times you see a loved one who had passed away with no idea about the outcome. You can continue with you account to learn of the outcome."

"Mom gave me a smile that exuded warmth and compassion."

The Encounter with Steve and Carol's Mother – Steve's POV

 _I slowly approached the familiar woman not sure if she was mom or an impostor._

 _"Mom, is that you or one of those weird psychedelic occurrences that I have passed by?" I asked._

 _"Steve, it's really me," mom replied._

 _"Where am I? Why am I wearing this?"_

 _"You are here because you have been shot. I know what you are going ask me: no, you're not dead. You had surgery and were taken to the ICU. I don't know why you're wearing the loincloth."_

 _"Do you know who shot me? I was supposed to be in court the day after to testify against Gordon Ganza."_

 _"I wish I knew who did, kiddo. Had I been there, I would have stopped that punk from doing anything!"_

 _"I hope dad, Amanda and Jesse are getting to the bottom of this!"_

 _"I think Amanda and Jesse are the only ones functioning as normal in this case. Your father hasn't been himself since you were brought into Community General."_

 _"Did dad operate on me?"_

 _"No, Jesse did."_

 _"Dad let him cut me, remove bullets, stitch up my damaged organs and sewn me up."_

 _"I wouldn't put it that way, but he did. I know that you wanted your father to treat you, but he was too distracted to help. Jesse was the next best thing and as an intern, he needs the experience."_

 _"Am I going to wake up from this?"_

 _"Steve, it's not a matter of if, but when. You are strong and tough. You will make a complete recovery! It will be a long road, but you will get better and stronger than before. Will you remember that, if not for yourself, but for Carol, your father, Jesse and me?"_

 _"I will, Mom! I always will! I love you!"_

 _"I love you, too, kiddo!"_

End of the Encounter

When Steve finished his account, he was sobbing, which was rare for him. Not only was he crying, but Carol was in tears. She got off the couch and approached him and gingerly hugged him and he held her. As soon as they released each other, Dr. Lucci passed to them a box of tissues to wipe their tears and noses.

"I am sorry for the waterworks," Steve said as he calmed down.

"Steve, it's okay to get emotional," Dr. Lucci responded with assurances. "It happens and it's normal."

"Even guys cry and it doesn't make them less than men," Carol said.

"Thanks, just don't tell Chief Masters or anyone else in LAPD. I don't think they will let me live this one down!"

Steve's last statement earned him laughter from his sister and the therapist. He looked at them as if they were aliens from some extra-terrestrial planet.

"Steve, you are only human," Dr. Lucci said. "Now, I would like for you to talk about how you feel about your father sitting on death row for crimes he didn't commit. Carol, feel free to talk about it."

"I woke up from my coma as Sergeant Archer arrested dad for murder," Steve replied with a subtle angry edge in his voice. "I didn't see dad until Jesse and Amanda agreed to spring me out of the hospital to the courthouse so I could hear the verdict and sentence. I was livid that he was found guilty and sentence to death. However, I was powerless to do anything about it being that I couldn't walk and had pain medication in my system."

"Our dad would never hurt anyone," Carol added. "Let alone kill an innocent woman who was trying to help him and Steve. I don't know about the man that died from binary poisoning, but I believe that he had something to do with my brother's shooting. Yet, I don't believe daddy would kill him. Ruffle his feathers, maybe, but commit homicide, no way."

"He was convicted on fabricated and planted evidence! They took advantage of an exhausted man whose son was fighting for his life to wash their hands of their crime. I hope those actually responsible for killing Ganza and Spring and framed our father get what's coming to them. I don't want them killed before they face justice. It would be up to a jury to determine the punishment of life in prison or the death penalty."

There was a sudden silence that filled the office that lasted a whole minute. Steve and Carol were staring at each other not knowing what else to say about their father's unjust incarceration. The Sloan siblings wondered what else was bothering them besides the terrible situation that someone brought upon them.

"This concludes our session," Dr. Lucci announced. "How about we meet again same time next week? I will give you my business card which has my pager number as well as a 24 hour emergency number. Call me if you need to reschedule or need to talk."

"Dr. Lucci, do you ever sleep?" Carol asked.

"Carol, just because I have a 24 hour number doesn't mean that I don't sleep."

Prior to leaving Dr. Lucci's office, Steve and Carol exchanged final pleasant with the therapist and handshakes. An orderly was called to bring Steve back to his room. Carol had to make a phone call so she joined her brother a few moments later. Steve was already in his bed watching a classic sitcom. He immediately turned off the television when his sister entered the room.

"Steve, I want to know that I am proud of you," Carol said as she sat by Steve's side.

"Thank you!" he answered. "I'd like to apologize for crying like that. I guess I missed mom."

"Don't apologize for that! I miss her, too. I am also angry at what's happening to daddy."

"I hope justice prevails, too. Carol, there was something in my dream state that I wanted to tell you that I couldn't tell Dr. Lucci."

"Don't tell me that you saw Bruce!"

"Unfortunately, he was there, but he wasn't with mom. He was one of the people who had no clue where they were going. He didn't say anything, but I wanted to punch him so hard and tell him 'this is for Carol, you moron.' This was for your ears only."

"Thank you! Is there anything I can do for you now?"

"Stay with me for about an hour."

Carol nodded and stayed with Steve. They talked about other things and made each other laugh. After the afternoon they had, they needed a little laughter. The nurse on duty came to tell Carol that visit hours ended for the day. She left the room, but not before she told Steve that she planned to visit their dad in the prison. They exchanged their good nights and the 'see you tomorrows'.

TBC

Post-Chapter A/N: I am sorry for taking long to write the chapter. I had writer's block which is frustrating. A BILLION APOLOGIES!


	5. The Updates

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

Carol updates Mark on Steve's progress.

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder and the characters. I only own my original characters and ideas.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

The Updates

"So, Steve's making some progress in his physical therapy?" Mark asked Carol.

"Yes, he is," Carol sighed. "The problem is that he's in a rush to make a full recovery and he complains that he hasn't made enough progress."

"Can you tell me specifically on his recovery?"

"He started rehabilitation two days ago. At first he couldn't take two steps without feeling exhausted. There were some exercises that he gave up on after the second rep. Yesterday, he took a few more steps and he progress on the exercises. His favorite moment is the massage he gets at the end of the session."

"Did he speak with the psychotherapist?"

"Yes, the first session was yesterday. It was weird and emotional."

"Weird? How?"

"Steve was telling about the dreams he had while he was in a coma. The only way I could describe part it is like tripping on acid. It is too strange for me to describe. If he was here, I doubt he'd be able to go into specifics."

"Carol, is there anything else that I need to know about your brother's potential progress or relapse?"

"He said in his dreams, he saw Mom."

"Was she in the psychedelic scenes?"

"Daddy, he told the psychotherapist that he had to go through that psychedelic scene to get to a tranquil site and she was there."

"Oh, thank goodness!"

"However, he told me he saw Bruce."

Mark opened his mouth in a mix of anger and shock. It took him a whole minute to finally close his mouth. Growing up, his mother taught him and his siblings that if they kept their mouths open for long periods of time, a flying insect could get in there. Why was Steve thinking about his deceased brother-in-law (Mark's son-in-law) while in a coma? It could be that he had some unresolved conflicts with a dead man.

"Did Steve tell the therapist about this?"

"No, he only told me."

"Why?"

"He told me that information was for my ears only. The therapist didn't need to know that Bruce was in his unconscious dream state."

"Carol, I think Steve should have told her. She could have offered some insight as to why he was thinking about Bruce."

"I could cajole him to talk about it with her, but I don't think he'll discuss until he is ready."

"That's a good idea! You can't force him into talking about something that either he is uncomfortable or not ready to discuss."

Carol nodded in understanding. She remembered growing up that it sometimes took Steve some time before he would talk to their parents or her about anything that bothered him. She learned that the hard way. When the siblings were teenagers, Steve came home one day with a note from one of his teachers. His facial expression said it all and it wasn't good. Carol asked him what was the matter, he said nothing and she pushed until he yelled at her to stop. He immediately apologized. He had to deal with their parents, but there was no way to escape at the trouble he was about to get himself into.

"How is the house?" Mark asked breaking the very awkward silence.

"It's still is on its foundation," Carol replied. "I have been taking care of the plants, the garden and the housekeeping. Also, nobody has attempted to break in, but there have been some teenage punks that have been riding their dirt bikes, taunting dogs and beachgoers and throwing eggs at the neighbors' houses. Fortunately, they haven't done anything to your house."

"Call the police and tell them this situation."

"Can they do anything for the family after what had happened to you and Steve?"

"It wouldn't hurt to call and report them. Maybe there is a menace out there that could do some serious harm to another person. It's best to nip it in the bud as the cliché goes. First, call Steve to let him know what's going on and he'll connect you to the proper division."

"I'll call him when I get to the house."

"Excuse me, but your visiting time is up," a female guard told Carol and Mark. "You can meet again tomorrow."

"I hate when these visits come to an end," Carol whined.

"I know, honey," Mark sympathetically winced. "I wish the three of us were together at the beach house."

Carol nodded in agreement and sympathy and she exchanged 'good-byes' with Mark. She left the prison slightly more depressed and angry than before. As she got into Steve's truck, she resisted the urge to cry, but failed miserably. When she was able to calm herself, she drove back to the beach house. When she arrived there was someone near the gate leading to the house. Carol couldn't make out if was a man or woman at first, but as the subject slowly approached her.

"I don't know who you are!" Carol shouted. "My brother is a detective with the LAPD! I am calling 911! Consider yourself warned!"

TBC (Dun! Dun! DUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!)

So, who is attempting to approach Carol? Find out in the next chapter of 'Recovery' coming soon (I think)!


	6. Questions, Answers and More Questions

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

The identity of the person hanging nearby the Sloan residence has been revealed.

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder and the characters. I only own my original characters and ideas.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

A/N2: I apologize for the delay of this chapter! Writer's block and an occasionally uncooperative muse got in the way! A BILLION APOLOGIES!

Questions, Answers and more Questions

"Are you Carol Sloan?" the mysterious person asked.

"Yeah, I am," Carol replied. "Who are you?"

A woman with shoulder length auburn hair revealed herself. Carol could make heads or tails what this person wanted.

"I am Sergeant Tanis Archer with the LAPD," the woman responded showing her badge. "I work with your brother."

"Sergeant Archer, you still haven't told me what you want!" Carol was annoyed. "I had just gotten back from visiting my father in prison. Tomorrow, I plan to visit my brother in the hospital. It's been a rough time for my family and myself."

"How is Steve doing?"

"He's still recovering."

"What about your father? How is he coping?"

"He tries to put on a brave face, but I think he is scared about his possible execution."

"Ms. Sloan, is there a place we can talk without anyone listening? I just feel awkward discussing possible confidential matters around your father and brother's neighbors and the general beach going public. "

"I was just about to enter the house before you nearly scared me."

"I am sorry about that."

"Don't worry about that."

The two women entered the house and Carol closed the door. She offered to take Tanis' coat and purse and placed it on top of a bed in a spare guest room. When she rejoined her impromptu guest, Tanis was sitting on the couch looking at a photo album she had found. She scanned older and more recent photos.

"That was my parents' wedding," Carol said out of nowhere, scaring her guest.

"Ms. Sloan, you scared the crap out me!" Tanis shrieked.

"I guess we are even, now."

"Touché! What are we, children here?"

"I am sorry!"

"You are forgiven!"

"Would you like a cup of coffee or tea? I have regular and decaf coffee and some herbal teas."

"Yes, I would like some decaffeinated herbal tea; I've had too much regular coffee already. If I have another cup, I think I would jump all over the walls. Or the chief would plead with me to go home and sleep some of the caffeine off."

Carol laughed and went to the kitchen to heat up a pot of water and took two cups from one of the cabinets. She took out an herbal teabag from a box on the counter and placed it in one cup. She briefly debated between having coffee or tea, opting for green tea. When both teas were ready, Carol served them with a choice of honey, sugar and milk.

"Thank you," Tanis said after she received her cup of herbal tea.

"Could I offer something to eat?" Carol asked.

"No thank you, I am stuffed from having a big lunch. I just want to give my digestive system a rest."

"That's understandable!"

Carol settled herself at another end of the table with her cup of tea which she put a small amount of honey to give a slight sweetness.

"Sergeant Archer, what would you like to talk about?" Carol asked. "I mean, there was a reason you came here."

"First, you can call me Tanis," Archer responded. "It's a matter about your father."

"What about my dad?"

"First, I want to tell you I was only following the evidence."

"You were the arresting officer?"

"Unfortunately, I was!"

"Why did you suspect my father, a medical consultant with the LAPD, whose son is a homicide detective, in the first place?"

"First, you need to understand that I witnessed your brother getting shot at the restaurant before he was scheduled to testify against Gordon Ganza. He was rushed to the hospital where he had surgery to remove the bullets and repair any affected organs. He was in a coma for a few days. He was fighting for his life, Carol! Your father was in a state a mind while waiting for Steve to wake up and at the same time feared that he would die. He was hardly sleeping and that probably clouded his own judgment."

"Tanis, I get the point about that. However, that doesn't explain why my father ended up in death row."

"I was getting to that! Someone from Ganza's organization probably broke into this house and stole some items and unscrewed the knobs off a cabinet. Your father put back those with a screwdriver. I don't know when exactly, that same person returned or someone else came over to steal the screwdriver that had your father's fingerprints on it. They used it to stab a young woman named Spring Dano to death. Also, another member must've have posed as a delivery man to get Dr. Sloan's signature to forge it on an illegally obtained prescription pad. That was most likely to get two drugs to make a binary poison for Ganza."

"I am a nurse and pretty much familiar with binary poisons through my training. Personally, I haven't seen someone come to a hospital or a clinic that had been poisoned by that method."

"It was when I saw your father kneeling down next to Spring's body; I thought he was the murderer."

"Did you think for one moment that he could have tried to save her life?"

"She was way beyond help by then. However, you haven't heard the worst part!"

"How could this living nightmare get any worse than it already is! My brother nearly gets killed the day before he was supposed to testify against this Gordon Ganza guy. My father is sitting in death row for two homicides I am pretty sure he didn't commit. You can't tell me it doesn't get worse that these two situations."

"We have photos of your father embracing Spring and allegedly sleeping with her."

"You're thinking that my father, who has been widowed for a few years, could have picked up a woman young enough to be his granddaughter, slept with her and eventually stabbed her to death with a screwdriver. This story gets weirder and sicker by the second."

"When your father testified in his own defense, he saw those photos the prosecutor provided and recognized only one or two of the photos as the man with Spring. Somebody must have pretended to be Dr. Sloan in the photos while sleeping with Ms. Dano."

Almost immediately, there was an eerie silence between the two women. Even though it was a brief period of quiet, it seemed like an eternity.

"This whole thing about your father's alleged guilt in all this just bothers me." Tanis broke that eerie and awkward silence. "It's something that gnaws at my conscience everyday and sometimes my sleep is affected. I had told you before that I was only following the evidence. I am pretty sure that you contact Steve from time to time."

Carol calmly nodded, but in her head and gut, she knew where the conversation was headed.

"Following the evidence is sometimes like going down a rabbit hole," Tanis continued. "It can lead you down some pretty shocking scenarios. At times, your mind can play some mean tricks on your perception."

"Have you told the chief about your concerns?" Carol asked.

"He doesn't even know I have them. I would like to have Steve's input before I speak to our boss."

"Did you have any chance of visiting him?"

"Not since your father was convicted of two murders."

"Why? I am sure he would like his colleagues to visit him and get updates about his condition and progress."

"I am not sure if Steve would appreciate a visit from the one colleague who put your father into this ordeal."

"Tanis, I am sure that my brother understands that you were just doing your job. Like you told me that following the evidence is like going down that rabbit hole. I know that you were just following it and that led to a conclusion that is gnawing at your conscience. I could go with you if you'd like."

"Carol, that is a kind offer, but I want to see him when I feel ready. I don't think I want something thrown at me in anger and disgust."

"Just think it over."

"Okay."

There was brief pause as the two women finished sipping there teas. They stared at each other wondering who was going to break this silence.

"Carol, I have a totally unrelated question to ask," Tanis spoke.

"I am not sure if I have the answer," Carol replied with some suspicion. "Go ahead and asked."

"For a few months, there has been a story going around the police department about a cop's sister who punched a woman who was arrested for murder. Some of my colleagues don't believe that occurred and it's considered the department's version of some urban legend. A member of the chief's task force thought it was her sister that did it. Nobody's certain."

"It was me! I was living in Barstow at the time. I had left my abusive bastard husband Bruce and got a job at a clinic in Portland, Oregon. I decided to pay my father and brother a visit since I hadn't seen daddy in eight years and Steve in six. Bruce's colleagues were running a scheme under their boss' nose. My husband filmed them and attempted to blackmail them. He opened a bank account under my name and hid a videotape in a safe deposit box. Some of his colleagues first pursued him and one of them killed him. Then, they ransacked our rental and finally my father and Steve's home. Two Neanderthals attacked my brother and put him in the hospital with a few broken ribs. When I visited him; these goons kidnapped me, took me back here, rummaged through my suitcase for the key to the box. There was a woman, named Andrea Rivers – a receptionist at Bruce's workplace, who drove me to my bank at Barstow. After retrieving the videotape my late Neanderthal husband hid in deposit box, she pulled her gun on me and confessed to killing Bruce. Unbeknownst to me, Steve had released himself from the hospital against medical advice. He appeared just in the nick of time. After she was cuffed, I got out of the car, belted her and sarcastically wished her a 'Merry Christmas'. Dad was there and told me Steve somehow knew where I was taken."

"Wow, I found out the truth behind this legend. I would like to tell members of my Task Force the source of it. That is, unless you don't want me to divulge this interesting eye-opener."

"I think I will leave that up to you."

"There's something that I would like to know from that story. Who was the one who taught you how to throw a punch? Was it Steve or your father? If I had to venture a wild guess, I think it could possibly your mother."

"Actually, it was Steve. I think since the day I was born, he felt I was his responsibility. He would take care of school and neighborhood bullies and rescue me out of some pretty scary or awkward situations while we were growing up. After our mother died, I felt that Steve was becoming more of a parent than a brother. It was like dealing with two fathers when our father was enough. I ran away with Bruce to Las Vegas where we got married."

Tanis looked at her watch and started to get up from her seat. Carol got up a few seconds later, but only to clear the table. Tanis helped Carol wash the cups, spoons and anything else that needed to be washed and put them in either the cabinet or the drawers.

"Carol, I have to get going," Tanis said. "It has been nice meeting you and I apologize for scaring you before."

"Don't worry about it!" Carol replied. "And it's a pleasure meeting one of Steve's colleagues."

The two women embraced as if they were long lost college roommates or sorority sisters. They released each and Tanis took a piece of paper and handed it Carol.

"This is my card with my contact information," Tanis explained. "You can call me if you need someone to talk to."

"Thank you," Carol smiled.

A few moments later, Tanis left and Carol was all alone in the house. She locked the doors and prepared something to eat. She sat on the couch and watched television for about an hour or two. When she went to bed, she debated between first visiting her father in prison or her brother at the hospital. She fell asleep before she could make her decision that could wait until morning.

TBC (Soon, I hope!)


	7. Whose Nightmare Is It Anyway?

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

A terrifying nightmare is plaguing somebody. Is it Mark, Steve, Carol, Jesse, Amanda or someone else involved in the story?

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder and the characters. I only own my original characters and ideas.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

A/N2: Advance apologies for inducing nightmares after you read this chapter. My intent is to tell good stories, not to scare readers intentionally.

Whose Nightmare Is It Anyway?

Steve angrily entered the prison. He gave every single corrections officer and anyone else who was unlucky to cross his path the death glare. He carried on his person some documents in a messenger bag. Only he didn't know what kind of papers the bag contained. All he knew was he had to deliver it to the warden or the person overseeing Mark's execution.

"Sir, can I help you?" a female corrections officer asked.

"Get out of my way," Steve growled. "Or I will shove you out. I need to get this bag to the warden pronto!"

"Well, excuse me! I was only trying to help, you pompous jerk!"

"Whatever!"

He sprinted, no he ferociously ran to the warden's office where a pale young woman resembling Spring Dano met up with him.

"Lieutenant Steve Sloan, I am not sure if you remember me," the young woman stopped him.

"You're the woman I was supposed to protect," he calmly responded. "I remember that you gave me information that could have nailed Gordon Ganza and put him away permanently."

"You remembered!"

"Spring, what are you doing here?"

"I came here to tell you that your father is innocent of what happened to Gordon and to me."

"What happened to you and Gordon?"

"Gordon was poisoned with something called a binary poison. I was stabbed to death with a screwdriver."

"My father is about to be executed your murders. Spring, please tell me not to do what the warden thinks I should do."

"I have no idea what the warden wants you to do, but somebody stole things from your father's house to frame him."

"Why is he going to be executed if he didn't kill you?"

Before Spring had a chance to respond, a bizarre looking creature with the body of Jabba the Hutt and the heads of Malcolm and Ian Trainor materialized out of nowhere. Their faces each bore the famous Chesire Cat-like smiles. Malcolm's head had googly eyes while Ian's eyes very dark and seemed vacant looking. Every time they breathed out of their mouths, their breath would stink of provoked skunk. Steve did his best to refrain from barfing his own guts out.

"What the hell is that?" Steve asked with a disgusted look on his face.

"That hideous thing is the warden," Spring replied and cringed.

"Is this a horror film that I was sent into?"

"I really can't answer that at all, sorry."

"Lieutenant Steve Sloan, we have been waiting for you," the booming and echoing voices of Malcolm and Ian bellowed out.

"I am here," Steve replied. "I came with the requested package. By the way, you sure could use some industrial strength breath mints.

"Silence, fool! We will not tolerate anymore disrespect from mere mortals like you! Give us the package now!"

"Here, take it!"

A slimy hand grabbed the package from Steve's. Another hand took out the contents of it. The two heads looked at the documents and read them thoroughly. After they finished, they glared at Steve with evil expressions on their faces.

"Come with us!" the warden demanded.

Do I really want to accompany this horrible thing? I think it may do something to cause me further injury, Steve thought.

"Lieutenant Sloan, come with us now!"

Steve followed the warden down the hall and into another building. He made sure to keep a minute distance just in case it left some sort of slime on the floor. It led him into a small nondescript room. The warden slithered its way to the other side of the entrance and opened a cubby door. The beckoned the slightly timid detective to approach the cubby and pointed toward a black sheet.

"Put this hooded cloak on!" the two-headed warden bellowed. "On the shelf, there is a mask."

"Am I my father's executioner?" Steve gasped with the realization he had to kill the man who brought him and Carol into the world.

"Shut up and do what you're told, you sanctimonious punk!"

Much to his own chagrin, Steve put on the cloak and mask. After he put those two items on his person, the warden escorted him to a room where Mark's execution would take place. Steve saw his father in prison garb strapped on to a gurney with his arms spread out and strapped. Steve wanted to speak and apologized to his father, but the mask had a muzzle almost like the one worn by Hannibal Lecter. He could breathe, but couldn't utter a single word. After Mark was prepped for death, Steve was given the necessary injections to complete his father's execution.

End of the Nightmare – Who was the unlucky person who dreamt it?

"Jesse, that was not a nice thing you just did to Steve," a semi-disembodied voice sounding like Amanda yelled.

"He executed his dad," Jesse shouted as he got up from the doctors lounge couch.

"Jesse, you had an awful nightmare," Steve calmly said.

"You went to that prison and met up with some gross creature with the heads of the Trainor brothers and Jabba the Hutt's body. It had given you some disguise and told you to kill him."

"Jesse, you know damn well that Steve has been here since he was brought back from court to see Mark's verdict," Amanda tried to assure a recently awaken Jesse.

"Steve, I am sorry I punched you! I hope you don't arrest me for belting a cop."

"Don't worry about it, Jesse! These things can happen. You know I would never do anything to harm my own father."

'I know, but this nightmare seemed all too real."

Steve was about to say something when Carol appeared at the door jamb of the lounge. She entered and wheeled a walker towards Steve's chair. For the past two months, he has made enough progress with his physical therapy to walk with a walker. His next target with his rehabilitation was to be strong enough to walk with a cane and finally unassisted.

"Steve has his physical therapy session in about an hour and a half," Carol chimed. "I would like for him to relax a bit before anything grueling."

"I haven't even had breakfast yet," Steve whined. "The nurse needs to feed me before I get tortured."

"Well, let's get my big brother fed so doesn't starve."

Jesse and Amanda laughed at their friend's protestations as Steve slowly got up and grabbed the walker handles. He stared at them and scoffed and he proceeded to walk out of the lounge with Carol behind him.

TBC


	8. Another Prison Visit

Recovery

Diagnosis Murder

Steve Sloan/Mark Sloan

Family/Hurt Comfort

Spoilers: Retribution Parts One and Two

Carol visits Mark once again in prison.

Disclaimer: I don't own Diagnosis Murder and the characters. I only own my original characters and ideas.

A/N: This is my first Diagnosis Murder fanfiction story, please go easy on me!

Another Prison Visit

Carol endured a few inconveniences to visit Mark for the umpteenth time since learning about his guilty verdict and that Steve woke up from his coma. She had some good news regarding Steve's progress. However, she needed to be prepared for any news from her father, whether it's good or bad.

"Ms. Sloan, here is your visitor's pass," Vicki, a 30-something corrections officer Carol had gotten to know, told her. "Someone will let your father know you are coming. How is your brother doing?"

"Steve is recovering nicely," Carol replied. "He has been walking with a walker for the past two weeks. Next stop for him will be walking with a cane. Eventually, he will walk without any assistance. He wants to get back to the police department ASAP. I think that he has a very nasty case of cabin fever with being in the hospital for a few months."

"I don't blame him. I will see you later."

Carol walked toward the death row inmate visitors' room where Mark was waiting for her on the other side of the plexi-glass window. A guard escorted her to the only empty chair. She sat down and started to talk with her unjustly imprisoned father.

"Hey daddy," Carol said. "I know the answer to this question is obvious, but I will ask you anyway. How have you been doing?"

"I am doing fine despite the circumstance," Mark answered. "I am still getting harassed by Malcolm Trainor. This man doesn't know when to stop flapping those lips of his. How much taunting can one person dole out? How much of that one person can take?"

"Daddy, have you tried to talk to one of the corrections officers, the guards or even the warden? Maybe they can move him to another cell or block."

"Honey, thank you for your suggestions, but I don't think it would do any good. It seems to me that they don't want to believe me. Maybe it's because they always take Trainor's side."

"Is there some way that I could ask Steve to get involved?"

"You could ask him, but he is on medical leave pending that he passes a physical examination."

"What I meant was that he could contact someone in the department to help you!"

"Even if he could, that won't be of much help."

"Why? Daddy, you insist you are innocent. Steve and I both believe you! So do Amanda and Jesse."

"I still can't figure how they had managed to misconstrue the evidence against me. While, I understand they are doing their jobs, but I consider this to be one of their sloppiest job."

"I am not sure if I had told you this during one of my previous visits. I met with one of Steve's colleagues, a Sergeant Tanis Archer."

"I think you had told me. Where are you going with this?"

"She told me that following the evidence is like going down a rabbit hole. You didn't know where it would lead you."

"I agree, but this is more like a magic show performed by an absolutely incompetent magician."

"Ugh, daddy, please don't remind me of the time when you and mom took Steve and me to that monstrosity when we were kids! There was that little boy that volunteered to be part of one trick and he almost disappeared permanently. His parents almost called the police on that moron and nearly slapped a lawsuit on the company that employed him."

"I only mentioned that to prove a point. Only, it wasn't incompetence on part of the police, but more of perception."

"Ah, I think I know what you mean! Once that evidence leads you down that rabbit hole, it can play tricks on your own perception."

"I wouldn't really put it that way, that is when convicts the wrong person. If the evidence leads to the right person, there aren't any tricks on perception."

"Now, it's crystal clear. I have one question regarding this observation."

"Ask away, honey!"

"If the evidence had been improperly deciphered by the police, then who could've been responsible for making this travesty of justice if it had misled them?"

"I wouldn't point the finger at the police entirely as they were doing their job. I have a nagging feeling that someone in this prison was culpable. I think that person had outside help."

"Can you at least give me a name?"

"At the moment, I can't, but I have a feeling that this man has a relative is behind all these rotten shenanigans."

"You can tell me when you feel ready."

There was a brief and eerie silence between father and daughter. They stared at each other with sad and frustrating expressions.

"I know you have visited Steve at the hospital numerous times," Mark broke the eerie tranquility. "You also accompanied him to his physical therapy sessions as well as his psychotherapy ones."

"Yes, I have and he is making amazing progress on both fronts," Carol replied with relief that the conversation topic changed. "I think I told you that he no longer gets around exclusively by a wheelchair. He getting stronger with the physical therapy and his next goal is to use a cane."

"I take it his ultimate goal is to finally walk again without any assistance."

"Oh yeah, I think he is getting fed up with being in the hospital."

"In a way, I can sympathize with experiencing cabin fever. The only difference is that Steve will eventually be released from the hospital, but I am not sure if I will recover from mine and survive."

"Daddy, stop thinking negatively! You are innocent! You will get out of this horrible place!"

"I hope you are right. Oh, I have been meaning to ask if you know when Steve will finally be out of the hospital."

"Jesse anticipates that Steve will be home in about another month or two."

"Well, I need to tell you to keep an eye on him."

"I know what you are talking about and I will make sure he follows Jesse's orders and he behaves himself."

"That includes getting lots of rest, which I am sure he won't enjoy! Also, he'll most likely get a lecture from Chief Masters about being on medical leave."

"I will do my damnedest to enforce the orders of doctor and police chief."

"Carol, just don't take it to the extremes like handcuffing him with his handcuffs."

"Daddy, I wouldn't dream of handcuffing my brother. I'll probably hide the keys to your car and his truck in my suitcase, if necessary."

Mark laughed at his daughter's remark about hiding the keys. A guard approached Carol and told her that her visit with her father ended for the day. She nodded in understanding.

"I wish these timed visits would be longer," Carol protested as she rose from her seat.

"I know, honey," Mark lamented. "I know! I will see you tomorrow or the day after. I love you!"

"I love you, too, Daddy! Bye!"

They each blew a kiss to each other and Carol turned to leave the visitors area. As she left the prison complex, she returned her visitor's pass to Vicki. The two women talked briefly and said their goodbyes. Finally, Carol left to do some needed grocery shopping and finally to the beach house.

TBC

Author's Post Chapter Note: Next chapter, I am bringing in another Sloan relative into the story. I won't divulge who it is, tune in and find out!


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